Alaska 2011
Bay Area to Prudhoe Bay, AK
Oregon and a snowy return to California
Saturday morning, we hit I-90 eastbound over Snoqualmie Pass, headed south into Yakima, and picked up US-97 into no-pump-your-own-gas-ville. This is even more absurd with a motorcycle, where they merely operate the complicated pay-at-the-pump credit card reader and hand you the nozzle. We arrived in Bend, OR in time for the end of a street festival with music, beer, booths, etc. As our waitress told us, they find an excuse for a festival just about every summer weekend. Sounds like my kind of town! Dinner and many excellent beers ensued at Deschutes Brewing, which turned into more beer back at the hot tub in our motel. Dave and Kris will not soon let me forget my twilight zone experience in the room when I tried in vain to find the bathroom in the middle of the night darkness... Nor when I couldn't figure our where I had been sleeping on my return from the bathroom! Sunday brought a hangover and breakfast at a hip restaurant that convinced me that I am not nearly cool enough to live in Bend. We headed south thru Crater Lake where we enjoyed a lunch courtesy of Mountain House and JetBoil. Next stop was Lava Pools National Monument, just over the CA border. We tried 2 routes up the 7500ft obsidian Glass Mountain, but ran into snow on both routes. Snow also blocked our westward escape from the mountains, so Kris decided he was tired of riding and parked his bike on it's side to take a nap. After rerouting and dodging many deer on our post-sunset run into Redding, I decided I couldn't be the only one who hadn't dropped his bike, so I tossed it down in the Ramada parking lot. Home tomorrow!
Victoria and Seattle
The ride through southern BC was extremely wet. We were cold and grumpy about the incessant BC rain (it must have rained 3/4 of our many days in the province), and it only got worse as we rolled down the Sea to Sky highway to the Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal. I'm sure our fellow ferry passengers greatly enjoyed us taking our boots off to air out feet and eventually change socks. Our friend Adam manages an apartment building in Victoria, so he kindly offered a place to crash Friday night. He and his girlfriend Nicole also treated us to all the beer we could drink, the finest of whisky, and a fabulous breakfast in the morning. Our friend Mike also came out to drink with us and sleep on Adam's couch. The next day, we hopped on a ferry to Anacortes, WA, and had a short day's ride to my parents' house in the Seattle suburbs. Dave wanted to have a new rear brake pad installed to replace the burned up one; turns out the anti-rattle clip got wedged and caused the pad to wear at an angle. It was down to the backing plate on one edge, but tons of material left on the other. He had that done, as well as an oil change, on the way through Seattle. Kris had gone through his rear Pirelli Scorpion Trail which was installed on our way north through Whitehorse, and was thrilled to get a Pilot Road 3 put on. Back to pure street tires. He also had some clutch issues, so he took advantage of the garage space to replace the plates and do an oil change. After some chain cleaning and many margaritas, we hit the hay.
More photos from BC
We're on a boat!
Headed to Victoria!
Homer to Haines Junction
After a great continental "Conti" breakfast at the Best Western in Homer, we headed north toward Anchorage before heading east and south once again. In Anchorage we started discussing how to get me a new clutch... Mine appears to be failing. Not yet slipping, but the friction point is definitely at the end of the lever. After a few calls, the result is that nobody can get one anytime soon. Maybe I'll have one overnighted into Seattle. We proceeded east of Palmer and saw the Manuska glacier - unfortunately it was 42 degrees and pouring rain, so the last thing we wanted to do was stop. Ended up in Glennallen last night and after a great night sleep, proceeded another 400 miles to Haines Junction. The ride started out with 20ish miles of dirt and relatively cold weather, but our spirits were lifted by the absolutely gorgeous views throughout the entire day. Tomorrow will be a short 100 mile ride to Whitehorse for laundry doing and getting myself at least one new tire.
Fairbanks, Denali, West Beaver Lake, Homer - Photos
"Wyld Stallyns!" This starts with a shot of Kris and Reid on the bus in Fairbanks.
After getting beat up by the Dalton, we opted to spend a day on public
transit and off the bikes. A trip for Margaritas at Chilis and
supplies at the local Walmart also included some insight into the
locals' lives. A girl was chatting on her phone most of the bus ride
about how she lost her house and car keys, boyfriend, and was on her
way to recover her car, and basically her entire life story. En route towards Anchorage we passed through Denali. Stunning scenery.
At one well outfitted rest stop we chatted with a fellow about our
trip. He provided us with free coffee and some other anecdotes that I
no longer remember. There was however, a very bright green bodied
spider hanging out on the monocular there. We then headed for West
Beaver Lake. We stayed at Reid's uncle's cabin -- Mike -- What a great guy. He
grilled up some corn and steak and we sat on the back porch by the
lake and chatted for hours. I volunteered, having massive cases with
room for beers, to go to the liquor store, and was almost run down by
a crazy woman doing 70mph around a 30mph curve in my lane. She also
barely missed a pedestrian that made a run for it across the street in
front of her. Several beers and a gin and tonic later, Kris got iced.
The view of the lake lit by the night sun at 3:33 AM was absolutely
incredible. One of the first places we managed to enjoy without the
company of excessive mosquitoes. We split this morning for Anchorage. Our destination was the Alaskan
Leather motorcycle shop. Barb reserved for me a new tinted visor,
which made me extremely happy, since the Dalton and northern Yukon
weather and grit combined with repeated glove wiping totally scarred
the hell out of it. You don't really realize how annoying a scratched
visor is until you find yourself frantically trying to wipe the fog
out of your visor, only to discover that it isn't fogged at all, its
just scratched horribly. Reid and I purchased waterproof glove covers
that later proved too painful for use. We also discussed destinations
with her and decided to head out to Homer. She also suggested a Thai
place for lunch, which turned out excellent. The trip to Homer is absolutely amazing. The highway runs along
beautiful green mountains capped with snow and glaciers in the
distance. Across 40+ miles of water you can see more snow capped
mountains. We spoke with a nice Alaskan Highway Patrol officer
today-- but not for our own wrong doing. Its truly amazing how we come across other riders time and time again.
The bar tender in Dawson explained that the three of us are an odd
group, because we don't fit the usual requirement of being older than
90 years old for such a trip. Before we made the trip up the Dalton
Highway, many of the "old timers" or "repeat adventurers" didn't seem
to have the time of day to acknowledge our presence. After having made
the journey, this is no longer the case. Those that didn't make the
Dalton Highway trip because of weather and road condition concerns
want to hear all about it, and those that have made the trip
repeatedly also want to hear about it.
We seem to leap frog various groups of riders. Some guys that we saw
in Dawson reappeared in Coldfoot. Riders from the UAF dorms seem to
appear everywhere. We spoke with some guys at a gas station today on
the way to Homer that we'd seen in the UAF dorms, and we spoke with
them again at a rest stop just outside of Homer. These types of
encounters aren't limited to other "moto-adventurers" however, but
also include other travelers, and especially the locals from the areas
you visit. We spoke with some fellows in a campground outside of
Whitehorse, and found them again in Dawson which led to meeting yet
another group of people. The sharing of experiences, gossip, and
ideas of how, where, when, and the luck involved in these trips
appears to be a key part in the adventure. Your travels are vastly
improved by these brief connections with everyone around you.
After getting beat up by the Dalton, we opted to spend a day on public
transit and off the bikes. A trip for Margaritas at Chilis and
supplies at the local Walmart also included some insight into the
locals' lives. A girl was chatting on her phone most of the bus ride
about how she lost her house and car keys, boyfriend, and was on her
way to recover her car, and basically her entire life story. En route towards Anchorage we passed through Denali. Stunning scenery.
At one well outfitted rest stop we chatted with a fellow about our
trip. He provided us with free coffee and some other anecdotes that I
no longer remember. There was however, a very bright green bodied
spider hanging out on the monocular there. We then headed for West
Beaver Lake. We stayed at Reid's uncle's cabin -- Mike -- What a great guy. He
grilled up some corn and steak and we sat on the back porch by the
lake and chatted for hours. I volunteered, having massive cases with
room for beers, to go to the liquor store, and was almost run down by
a crazy woman doing 70mph around a 30mph curve in my lane. She also
barely missed a pedestrian that made a run for it across the street in
front of her. Several beers and a gin and tonic later, Kris got iced.
The view of the lake lit by the night sun at 3:33 AM was absolutely
incredible. One of the first places we managed to enjoy without the
company of excessive mosquitoes. We split this morning for Anchorage. Our destination was the Alaskan
Leather motorcycle shop. Barb reserved for me a new tinted visor,
which made me extremely happy, since the Dalton and northern Yukon
weather and grit combined with repeated glove wiping totally scarred
the hell out of it. You don't really realize how annoying a scratched
visor is until you find yourself frantically trying to wipe the fog
out of your visor, only to discover that it isn't fogged at all, its
just scratched horribly. Reid and I purchased waterproof glove covers
that later proved too painful for use. We also discussed destinations
with her and decided to head out to Homer. She also suggested a Thai
place for lunch, which turned out excellent. The trip to Homer is absolutely amazing. The highway runs along
beautiful green mountains capped with snow and glaciers in the
distance. Across 40+ miles of water you can see more snow capped
mountains. We spoke with a nice Alaskan Highway Patrol officer
today-- but not for our own wrong doing. Its truly amazing how we come across other riders time and time again.
The bar tender in Dawson explained that the three of us are an odd
group, because we don't fit the usual requirement of being older than
90 years old for such a trip. Before we made the trip up the Dalton
Highway, many of the "old timers" or "repeat adventurers" didn't seem
to have the time of day to acknowledge our presence. After having made
the journey, this is no longer the case. Those that didn't make the
Dalton Highway trip because of weather and road condition concerns
want to hear all about it, and those that have made the trip
repeatedly also want to hear about it.
We seem to leap frog various groups of riders. Some guys that we saw
in Dawson reappeared in Coldfoot. Riders from the UAF dorms seem to
appear everywhere. We spoke with some guys at a gas station today on
the way to Homer that we'd seen in the UAF dorms, and we spoke with
them again at a rest stop just outside of Homer. These types of
encounters aren't limited to other "moto-adventurers" however, but
also include other travelers, and especially the locals from the areas
you visit. We spoke with some fellows in a campground outside of
Whitehorse, and found them again in Dawson which led to meeting yet
another group of people. The sharing of experiences, gossip, and
ideas of how, where, when, and the luck involved in these trips
appears to be a key part in the adventure. Your travels are vastly
improved by these brief connections with everyone around you.
Fairbanks to Deadhorse - More Photos
Fairbanks to Deadhorse - Photos
As promised..
Fairbanks to Deadhorse and back part 2
(Dan) "what is that?"
(Kris) "Honda VFR."
"hmmm." Dan takes a puff of his cigarette.
"I have a new 5% rated off-road tire. But my front is stuck in Canadian customs."
"mm-hmm, interesting." Dan lied, politely. Another puff, then a pause.
"what are you getting done?"
"nothing, just them..."
... We are initially pleased and find the weather a blissful 75 degrees most of the way, the last hour of dirt was in the rain, slowing us down and soaking our gloves. My visor was scratched to hell from wiping the wet dirt off with my gloves through all the rain we'd seen. The plastic tab that holds it in cracked open position for defogging no longer worked. I wiped the inside and outside repeatedly trying to see. We pushed harder and were rewarded by dry pavement for the last 80 miles.
"we've done it guys, but remember that last short snotty section just ahead."
Sure enough, the short 30 foot section of snot just before pavement was right in front of us. The day before this one stretch had me second guessing our timing with the weather. In the opposite direction of travel it was worse for sure, but after all of what we'd gone through in the past two days this seemed like nothing.
As I hit the end of the section and came up onto pavement I goosed the throttle, giddy and a little delirious, and took off. Blasting victory tunes in my headset.
"fuuuu holy crap"
"what?"
"Kris just soiled his underwear."
"what happened?"
"worst tank slapper ever."
I looked in my mirror, we were all accounted for. I laughed to myself. We had all made it. We had all experienced tank slappers that we thought would take us down. Two days and 1000+ miles of the worst riding conditions I'd ever seen. My shoulders hurt. My thumb which has been sprained since weeks before the trip throbbed. My fingers felt bruised. We had been peppered by stones. Beaten, but not defeated, we were all okay.
Another few miles down the road and I spot a moose crossing the highway, I slow everyone down but he's off into the stubby forest before we get there.
The radio gremlins strike and my radio is making noises and rebooting itself. The power cable is loose. This was the first time I had had radio issues on the trip. Kris and Reid were constantly having to deal with loose connections throughout the journey, a major source of frustration.
A mile later a bird comes within inches of my visor. "thank you lord for allowing that bird to change course."
Reid lets me know later that to him the bird had appeared to vanish for seconds in front of me. This was because it was flying across the highway, then veered straight at my head. At the last possible moment it climbed up and over my helmet.
A few more miles down the road, Reid and Kris dodge a fox.
It's nearly midnight and the sun is still shining. Back at the UAF dorms we ate our lunches to go from the Prudhoe Bay hotel and discuss our epic few days.
Return photos to follow.
